


I Volunteer

by AndyHood



Series: My Sherlock AU's [3]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-25
Updated: 2014-06-25
Packaged: 2018-02-06 05:35:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1846261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndyHood/pseuds/AndyHood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock never thought he would be reaped, his name was in the bowl just one time and it was his last year, the odds were in his favor as much as Mycroft could arrange them. But the odds were not in his favor as his named was called, but the horror of being reaped was pale to when a voice rang out in the silence, the voice of his best friend saying, "I volunteer."</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Volunteer

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little one-shot that I thought of.

Sherlock sighed from his place in the crowd, scowling as John bumped him with a hiss to be quiet. Sherlock grumbled but fell silent as the beginning of the reaping began with the same boring speech about the War. Sherlock was bored, it really was just a formality that he was here, there was only a .00001 chance that his name would be drawn. Mycroft using his skills pulling strings made sure that Sherlock’s name was only in the reaping once instead of the usual 7 times as was required of all 18 years old. Sherlock was more worried about his friend John, who had his name in 42 because of tesserae. Sherlock hated that his only friend was at risk for being reaped, he tried to convince John not to put his name in so many times but John had shut down that discussion very quickly refusing to talk to Sherlock about it. Sherlock knew that John did it to support his sister and mother and refused Sherlock when he tried to offer him money. John was to stubborn and refused to take Sherlock’s charity, it was the biggest row they ever had, and they still hadn’t fully made up. But this was the last year for both of them, and once it was over Sherlock knew that they would be able to put it all behind them.

“Ladies first” said the puppet of the Capital, Kitty Reilly reaching into the bowl and selecting a name. “Mary Morstan”

From out of the group of 17 year old girls walked a petite girl with short cropped blonde hair; her face was blank as she walked up the steps to stand on the stage. Sherlock grew tenser as the woman made her ways to the boys bowl.  He watched as her manicured fingers skimmed the top of the names before diving deep and picking out a single name. Walking back to the microphone she carefully opened up the piece of paper and smiled as she read out with a clear voice.

“Sherlock Holmes.”

Sherlock froze, his eyes automatically going to his brother Mycroft who looked as stricken as he felt. No, he only had his name in once, this should not have happened. It was against the odds, he must of misheard, surely they said someone else. He was snapped out of his shock by two Peacekeepers he recognized as Donavan and Anderson grabbed him by his elbows when he hadn’t moved and began to lead/drag him to the stage, but they hadn’t made it more than a few steps when a voice spoke up next to him.

“I volunteer” came a painfully familiar voice, “I volunteer as tribute”. Sherlock whipped his head to the side his eyes widening with horror as he realized who had just spoke. John was looking back at him calmly even as Donavan and Anderson released him and motioned John to walk forward. This snapped Sherlock in moving forwards.

“John” he half-way shouted as he tried to grab his friend as he moved to walk towards the podium. But peace keepers came from both sides boxing John in as they escorted him to the stage. Sherlock could only watch in horror as John climbed the stairs to stand next to Kitty who smiled at him.

“My, my, my I do believe you are the first volunteer this District has had, what is your name dear?” she asked so sickly sweet.

“John Watson” John replied with a steady voice, his eyes finding Sherlock in the crowd. Sherlock could feel tears gathering in his eyes as he looked at John, but he didn’t care that he was showing the whole world his emotions. His best friend was going to the arena where the odds were defiantly not in his favor.

“Well John Watson, I’m betting Mr. Holmes is a friend” she said trying to understand the reasoning, trying to give the people viewing a story.

John eyes flicked to look at her before going back to Sherlock, “My best friend” he replied softly.

“Well he must be a very good friend” said Kitty smiling at John before turning back to the crowd. “Let’s give Ms. Morstan and Mr. Watson a big hand” she said clapping, trying to encourage the rest of the people. Except no one applauded, and Sherlock was surprised as he watched his brother Mycroft, who liked and excelled in keeping in the shadows, carefully lift his hand to his lips and kissed his three fingers and slowly lift them, his pinky and thumb curled into his palm. It is an old and rarely used gesture of their district, occasionally seen at funerals. It meant thanks, it meant admiration, it meant goodbye to someone you love. It was the greatest sign of respect Mycroft could give this boy who was sacrificing his life for his baby brother.

As he watched the people around him began to follow his example kissing their fingers and saluting John Watson, the boy who befriended the cold detached Holmes junior, who worked in the mines every day to support his family and now was sacrificing himself for his best friend. John gave everyone a brief nod before letting himself be led away to where he would be able to say good-bye to his family and friends.

Sherlock immediately made his way to the building, not surprised when Mycroft joined him. They stayed back as John’s mother and sister went in first. Both Holmes tried to ignore the sound of shouting within, but they couldn’t ignore the way the door was flung open and Harry stalked out and headed straight to Sherlock.

“It’s your fault” she screamed, slapping him hard across his check, “My brother’s going to die because he became friends with you. If he hadn’t of met you, none of this would be happening” she cried.

Sherlock lowered his eyes and didn’t reply nor did he look up as Mrs. Watson walked past, sniffing quite loudly. He only moved when Mycroft touched his arm and indicated it was time for Sherlock to say good-bye. Sherlock cautiously entered the room, eyes immediately going to John who stood to the window looking out. He turned when he heard Sherlock and managed a smile. Sherlock knew immediately that his friend had shed a few tears from what his hag of a sister said to him.

Sherlock moved cautiously forward and opened his arms unsure if this was the right thing to do. Apparently it was as John stepped forward and wrapped his arms around his friend, burying his head into his shoulder clutching him tightly. The gravity of the situation hitting John hard as he took comfort from the usually cold Sherlock.

“Why” Sherlock asked when John loosened his arms a tiny bit. John sighed and stepped back from Sherlock.

“The world needs people like you in it Sherlock, people will someday rebel against the Capital and it will need minds like yours to help rebuild it. I’m just John Watson, nothing all that special I will not matter so much in the long run” said John and Sherlock was shocked that John actually believed that. Believed that in the grand scheme of things that he didn’t matter.

Sherlock gripped John by his shoulders and looked deep into his eyes. “You are not nobody John, you are my best friend, my conductor of light. You give me focus and show me what is good and not good.”

John smiled at that last part but he didn’t verbally agree with Sherlock. But before he could say anything else there was a knock on the door and Mycroft entered. “It’s time to leave Sherlock” he said quietly. Sherlock looked panicked and was about to refuse but stopped when Mycroft gave him a small glare, he gave John one last smile and left him alone with his elder brother. Mycroft turning to John offered him his hand.

“Thank-you John” he whispered, “Thank-you for protecting Sherlock John, for all the times I couldn’t. You didn’t have to volunteer for him, yet you did. I can never repay you for this and I’m sorry that I might not get the chance to do it. Though I promise that I will watch over your sister and mother so don’t worry about them and focus on coming out of that arena alive do you hear me John Watson?” asked Mycroft.

John smiled, “I’ll try my best Mycroft, please keep an eye on Sherlock, I expect him to be in one piece when I get back” he joked weakly, and Mycroft for a second saw the fear that John was so desperately trying to hide. But John quickly put back on his mask and gave Mycroft a small smile as the peacekeepers entered and led John to the train.

As Sherlock watched the train leave, he prayed to every power in the universe that John would somehow survive and win the Hunger Games. Sherlock needed John, his best friend, and he hated that his mind was already calculating the odds and coming back with the results that John was going to die. So when Mycroft wrapped an arm around his shoulders he didn’t push it off like usual but leaned into his big brother’s embrace.

“He is strong Sherlock, despite what your mind is telling you, don’t forget the most important thing about John Watson, he always defies what you expect him to do. No one expected that he would last hanging around you yet he just shown the depth of your friendship for the whole country to see. Even I doubted him on several occasion, and he has always proven me wrong. Because that is one of the many mistakes people make about John Watson, that he is easily bent and is therefore underestimated, when you and I both know he has a core of steel and a force to be reckoned with. He is also fairly intelligent, and he will use that in the arena. So don’t start mourning unless he falls in the arena, you got to have hope little brother because we both know John will try his damnest to come home to his family and to you.”

Sherlock nodded, mentally berating himself for ever doubting John, John was exceptional. If anyone could make it out of the arena it would be John, he didn’t survive being Sherlock’s friend just to die for someones entertainment. Somehow Sherlock had to believe that John would survive, not because the odds were in his favor, but because he was John Watson and that was all he needed to be.

**Author's Note:**

> Hoped you liked!


End file.
